Our Time
by modernxxmyth
Summary: Loving her best friend could be her destruction or her salvation. Mark/Callie. Mallie one-shot.


**A/N:** A little different than my usual stuff. Inspired by the song 23 by Jimmy Eat World.

**Disclaimer:** Are Mark and Callie sleeping together on the show right now? No, they are not mine.

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_**Our Time**_

Mark chased Callie time after time.

She didn't notice half the time, and when she did, she pretended she didn't. It was easier that way, not having to feel. Not having to deal with the fact that loving her best friend could be her destruction or her salvation. It was easier with George and with Erica and with Arizona and with one night stands she could pick up at Joe's that weren't Mark.

She told him it wasn't their time.

Avoidance was her strong suit.

It wasn't Mark's. Obsession was his strong suit.

His obsession with Callie Torres was something that developed over time.

They had sex when she was sort of still with George (but only sort of) three dirty and hot times. It had been three very great times. He got to worship her body, every inch of her smooth skin, every curve of her, every tendril of her hair. It was enjoyable and it shook something in Mark, but it didn't have him obsessed. It had him infatuated and interested and attracted, but the night didn't have him obsessed. It came later, one day when they were sharing a table in the cafeteria as friends, sipping coffee, and Callie crinkled her nose at some smell and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and Mark realized how fucking beautiful she was. He always knew she was hot and that she was sexy, but that day at coffee, after George and before Erica, he realized her beauty.

The obsession developed then.

He'd been chasing her ever since (when he wasn't pushing her off in the direction of Erica and Arizona).

He went after her time and time again. It started with a hint here and there. A casual touch. But they were best friends and nothing but, and Callie made that clear when she picked up some guy at Joe's the day after he asked her to stay the night at his place.

When he gruffly asked her how her night was, she avoided eye contact and pretended she didn't care. Like she hadn't done it intentionally.

Mark would always love what he couldn't have. It's what had interested him in Little Grey, after all, but Derek had planted that seed, and Mark had planted this one all on his own. This seed was real and genuine and love.

They were best friends. They both wanted more, but every time Mark pushed for it, Callie ran in the other direction. She'd been hurt too many damn times. George cheated on her. Erica left her. Arizona couldn't handle her. She was done with love despite the fact that she felt it – especially in regards to a certain rugged, slightly whorish best friend of hers.

He chased her, and she ran and rejected him time and time again because she couldn't handle it. She couldn't stand to be hurt again (despite that tiny voice in her head that screamed he'd finally be the one that wouldn't hurt her).

Mark's obsession never waned, but he stopped fighting. He stopped chasing her. He was tired. He was so tired of loving his best friend and never winning. All he did was lose her time and time again, and he just couldn't fucking fight anymore.

Meanwhile, the tiny voice in Callie's head got larger and stronger.

It was a normal Tuesday afternoon in late March when things changed.

Mark had stopped fighting for her, and Callie finally realized what she lost. She loved Mark, and he loved her, and why the hell weren't they together? She'd lost a patient in surgery – a simple procedure that should have gone smoothly. The patient's best friend was waiting for the results that Callie had to painfully deliver. There was crying and Callie had to turn away.

She was upset about the lost patient and wanted someone to talk to. But she and Mark weren't talking. Not since he gave up on her. She couldn't lose him. Watching the way the patient's friend reacted stirred something in Callie that she couldn't deny. All she wanted to do was talk to Mark. She couldn't lose him. They weren't talking, and she was scared she already had.

Callie ran to the attending's on-call room and prayed that Mark wasn't in surgery.

He wasn't. He was alone (thankfully), laying on a bottom bunk bed, eyes closed.

"Mark!" Callie exclaimed.

His eyes snapped open. "Torres?"

"I'm ready." Just stating it felt liberating for her.

"What?" Mark questioned. He didn't dare hope she meant what he wanted her to.

"I'm ready…I'm ready to be caught." She bit her lip in that way that made Mark heat up.

"I've been chasing you for a long time, Callie. Are you sure about this?"

"I've been waiting around, claiming it wasn't our time because I was scared. If I keep saying it's not our time, I'll be alone, and it never will be. And that's bullshit. There's no such thing as timing with this. It was just me being a coward, and I'm sorry. But I'm ready for this. I swear to god, I am ready for this."

Mark crossed the room in two second flat and pressed his lips against hers. Two sets of bruised lips later, he pulled away, short of breathe. "Promise this isn't a game, Torres."

She looked him square in the eyes. "It's not a game. I promise it is not a game."

Mark looked at her with hopeful eyes.

Callie smiled. "No one knows me like you do, and I know you better than anyone. This is right. Us, together…it's right. And I'm sorry it took me so damn long to get here, but I'm ready. I'm ready for this to be real. I promise."

"Don't run, okay?" Mark requested in a quiet voice.

"I won't," Callie replied.

She closed the space between them once more.


End file.
